


A Taste of War

by queien



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queien/pseuds/queien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict recounts the days Corwin spent with him in Avalon, revealing that Corwin's version of events changed and left out many significant details of what actually occurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of War

It all started five days ago. Two of my men approached me after a meeting with my officers, and they explained to me how they had come across two armed mercenaries who had wandered into my camp. As they informed me of the situation, I realized that I could occasionally catch bits of conversation coming from outside of my tent, and one voice rang somewhat familiar to my ears. Having already decided that I would meet with these two strangers, I listened in on what little could be overheard of their conversations. 

A breeze caught the tent flap, blowing it open for a brief moment. I could see nothing outside, but I was sure that, had they been watching, it would have been open long enough for them to get a glimpse of me. I received proof that they had indeed spotted me when I heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a familiar voice saying something that I could only assume was a comment about my appearance.

“Damn. He looks like he tastes of war.”

I raised my remaining hand to stop my men mid sentence, not that I knew what they had even been saying. They went quiet and looked at me expectantly. “I wish to see these mercenaries,” I said. Then, for emphasis, I added, “alone.” 

I turned and exited the tent, my men at my heels, and I regarded the two mercenaries. The first I didn't recognize. However, the second I knew right away to be my brother Corwin. His gaze met mine, and I held it, relishing the sudden look of discomfort that flashed across his features. I couldn't help but smile then. “Come with me,” I said, and led my brother and his friend into my tent. They followed, and I poured them drink and we spoke for some time. After we had updated each other as much as we felt comfortable with, leaving just enough information out so that the other could feel informed without actually getting the full story, I decided that it was time to cut to what I was more interested in.

“After you vanished, I looked for you, Corwin,” I said. He jolted, nearly dropping his glass. I smirked, and although already knowing the answer, I continued with a question. “Did you know that?”

“Er, no,” he admitted. “But I'm glad to hear that you cared enough to, and that you doubted Eric enough to do so.” There was a long pause that neither of us rushed to fill. He was the one to continue. “Would you mind it if we stayed here for a while to visit?”

“Is that all you wish to do? Visit?” 

He hesitated. “That's all I had in mind,” he replied. I couldn't tell if he had caught my suggestion and was rejecting me or if he had taken my words as an accusation of sinister motives that he was denying with his reply. I refilled our glasses and continued the conversation, looking for another opening.

We spoke of the current state of Amber, and I told him flatly that I had no intent of siding with anyone for any reason. I had no interest in petty family squabbles, especially when I could tell that there were more important issues at hand. However, he seemed to take my words to mean that I had aligned myself with Eric. 

“I'm not implying I would betray you,” I said, attempting to calm his doubts. I saw my opening and took it. “I'm not without feelings, Corwin. Cast your ambitions for the throne and your fears aside, and stay here in safety and comfort with me for a while.”

I couldn't guess at his thoughts by reading his expression, but I could see that he was very much confused. “Then I suppose I wouldn't mind a visit,” he said, “as I mentioned earlier.”

“And you're more than welcome to,” I said.

I drank to allow a lull in the conversation so he could piece out his thoughts. As I went to top off my drink, he spoke, and I turned my attention to him instead. “I wasn't expecting to find you here, Benedict,” he said, “but I'm pleased that I did.” He smiled, and I felt heat rise in my face. His remark seemed like an acknowledgment of what I had been trying to imply, and his widened smile as he noticed my blush seemed to prove it.

I was unsure what to say, so I sputtered out a quick “the pleasure is mine,” to keep a silence from growing.

“Shame. I was hoping you'd share,” he replied, and I knew then that we were on the same page. He looked me straight in the eye as he lifted his glass and drained it. 

I cleared my throat. “I have a manor nearby,” I said. “You're free to stay there during your visit. I'll send for you later.” 

He thanked me, and we parted after I settled living arrangements for him and his friend, whom I had all but forgotten about and who was seemingly very confused about what he had just witnessed. It was just after they left that I contacted you to inform you not to visit over the next few days. The only reason I didn't mention Corwin's presence was because I was unsure of you reaction, and I wanted to keep good on my promise of safety to him.

The next morning, I sent them to my manor with one of my men, who had been instructed to keep an eye on the pair of them. Eventually, Corwin's friend left, heading for town, and my man came to me to report this. I left my tent and went to Corwin.

I let myself in, and he didn't seem surprised in the slightest. He greeted me with a nod and a grin from where he sat, and I approached him. 

“Are you really that interested in what war tastes like?” I asked.

“Straight to the point, I see,” he said. But then realization struck him, and his eyes widened. “Wait, you heard that?”

I nodded. 

“Is that why you were talking like that last night?”

I nodded again.

“Well damn. I thought that was a little weird and sudden, coming from you,” Corwin said. “Now, this begs the question: were you actually flirting with me or were you just messing with my head?”

“I'm actually flirting with you,” I said, trying to emphasize the present tense. I took a step closer to him, and he eyed me up and down. I worried for a brief moment he was going to reject me. Of course, this worry wasn't born from the fear that my secret would get out. He wouldn't dare share my incestuous leanings: I know well my reputation and that my siblings aren't eager to get on my bad side. I was more worried that what I had been anticipating so eagerly wouldn't come to pass.

Eventually, he stood, and he was close enough to me that, although we weren't touching, I could feel the heat of his body. “The bedroom here is rather nice,” he commented. “But which of us will be getting the bed under him?”

“I have a way of settling such things,” I told him. “However, you wouldn't like it. Your best interests might be just laying back and taking it.”

“That's no fun. I at least want to know your method,” he said. His tone was flirtatious. He must not have noticed that I had been giving him serious advice.

“By duel,” I said.

He laughed nervously. “You're right,” he said, raising both his hands. “I'm not about to clash swords with you today, Benedict. Well, not steel ones, at least. You win by default.” He paused and licked his lips. “I don't mean to ruin the mood or pry, but I'm genuinely curious. How many potential lovers have you accidentally slain?”

“None,” I replied. “They all yield to me. Well, all but one,” I corrected. “However, the two of us are evenly matched enough in our respective fields that we both leave relatively unharmed.”

“I wouldn't mind meeting whoever's ballsy enough to duel you,” Corwin said. “But I can wait until later, of course.”

I said nothing more.

We retired to the bedroom then. Unfortunately, my missing arm was more detrimental to my performance than I was willing to admit. In spite of this, Corwin made no remarks on my handicap and seemed more than happy to do most of the work for me. With him in control, I quickly learned the differences between loving a warrior and a poet. While his gentle touches were unfamiliar to me, they weren't unwelcome. 

He started with his mouth, his breath and lips hot against my scarred skin. He worked his way south, stripping me as he went, and I soon learned that his silver tongue was good for more than just fast talk. 

The oral was more to coat me in something more lubricated than taking me dry, I realized. He pulled away much sooner than I would have liked. Still, I'm not about to complain about what happened next. Stripping himself bare, Corwin straddled me as I sat on the edge of the bed. Then, arms on my shoulders for support, he lowered himself onto me. I rested my good arm across his back, and he returned this by embracing his arms about my shoulders and kissing me. Our tongues slid across each other in warm passion. Still locked in our kiss, he began to move. 

I had only heard stories of Corwin the Lover from women; however, he knew what he was doing well enough that I'm sure many men out there shared similar tales. His hips gyrated against mine, and while his endurance was impressive, eventually, to my surprise, he pulled away from my lips and I felt him climax against my stomach. I held him as he rested a moment, and there was something adorable in how helpless he looked then. However, it wasn't long before he had recovered enough to continue, but his gyrations were slower than before. 

Instead of continuing our earlier kiss, he peppered my neck with gentle smooches before growing tired from his prolonged efforts and panting raggedly as he rested his head against me. His hot and weary breath against where my neck and shoulder met was more arousing than I had anticipated, and I finished inside him not much after. 

We lay in the bed together – his arms around me and my good arm under him – until we heard someone approaching the house. Corwin sprang out of bed, swearing as he rushed to pull back on his clothes. I sat up, and he threw my own clothes at me, urging me to get dressed myself. 

Corwin paused as he passed a mirror long enough to fix his hair and then darted out of the room just as the door opened. I heard him speak with his companion for a time, and then the door closed again and I could hear their voices coming from outside. I finished dressing and then decided it was best to leave out the back, since Corwin seemed so concerned about his friend finding us together. Once I had gone a ways, I trumped him. All I said was “I've gone,” before ending the call. I called him again later that night, and we made plans to meet at my tent the following day. 

On the third day of his visit, my responsibilities caught up with me, and I knew it may be a while before we could meet that way again. Our time apart heightened my anticipation for our next meeting, but I tried not to let it control or distract me. 

Upon my return, I went immediately to the manor and entered. It was empty. A quick investigation of the house proved that the pair of them had packed quickly and left. I felt a flash of betrayal; however, I tried not to let my anger get the best of me. After all, they might just be in town for the day, or maybe some threat had come for them and forced them to leave prematurely. 

I called Corwin, but he didn't answer. This worried me, and I strode the grounds to see if there were any further pieces of evidence as to why they had left or where they had gone. What I found was more horrific than I had imagined. Four of my dear servants had been slain, and the proximity to the house and the manner of their deaths heavily implied Corwin as their murderers. Consumed by a fiery rage, I first made one last attempt at contacting Corwin to give him a chance to explain himself. When he didn't answer, I stormed back to camp, mounted my horse, and rode off in pursuit. 

It didn't take long for me to see his wagon in the distance. He obviously spotted me as well, and his attempts to slow me further solidified his guilt in my mind. When I finally caught up with him, my only thought was to skewer him on my blade. The fact that a betrayal such as this meant something ominous to Amber only crossed my mind just recently, and although the murdered servants had been very dear to me, their deaths meant less than the real reason I attacked him with such violence. I had allowed him something I had allowed very few, and it was something that next to none of my siblings had ever or would ever receive. He had manipulated me, using my lust for him as an advantage for whatever he was plotting. It was for this that I wouldn't let him live. 

I caught up with him and we fought. I nearly had him twice, but he feebly dodged my blows at the last moment. His evasiveness frustrated me further, and my rage blinded me. The next thing I knew, I was paralyzed from the waist down. Strange, dark grasses clung to my legs, robbing me of my strength and mobility. Corwin stood just out of reach, sword lowered. I'm sure that, if he didn't fear me so much, he might have grinned cockily. In that moment, there was no one I loathed more.

I dropped my sword when the grasses had robbed me of so much of my strength that I could no longer hold it. My field of vision blackened at the edges, and I fell to my knees. Corwin came close enough to bat my sword out of my reach with the tip Grayswandir but still held his distance. At least he continued to respect my power, crippled as I was.

I eventually blacked out, and when I awoke, I was bound to that tree and you were coming up the hill.

There are many siblings that he could have sent for, or even locals he could have fetched to care for me until he was safely away. But no, he called on you, Gerard. Of all people, Corwin called on you.

This is a message from Corwin to us. I don't know how he figured it out, but he knows about what we do together. And I swear, Gerard, when I next see him, I'll show him my full fury, a true taste of war.

**Author's Note:**

> This work builds off of a currently unpublished Gerard/Benedict story written by a friend. I'll update this story with a link if she ever posts it anywhere.
> 
> This story was inspired by the fact that I misread the sentence "you look like you've seen a taste of war" with "you look like you taste of war." It sounded like the sort of line Corwin might use, and I thought of no better subject than his eldest brother.
> 
> I was tempted to have Corwin not give a damn about Ganelon catching him with Benedict and then have him invite Ganelon into round two to make it a threesome, but I scrapped that. I'm pretty sure it was traumatic enough for poor Ganelon/Oberon to watch his sons flirt with each other like that.


End file.
